


last dance

by mairesmagicshop



Series: The Raven and the Dove [1]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 07:06:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14995475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mairesmagicshop/pseuds/mairesmagicshop
Summary: After the incident at the community theater, Julian invites you out to dinner but there is no canon scene. This is my mostly fluffy imagining of getting to the Rowdy Raven and the fun time they have there, despite the clouds on the horizon…And dancing is involved.Julian belongs to Nix Hydra. Maire is mine.





	last dance

Our mingled laughter chases us down the alley away from the community theater. I stop and nearly keel over, wheezing from the combination of hilarity and exhaustion, bent at the waist with my hands on my knees.

“My god, Julian, your face!” I stutter out. “When you went up! I thought I was going to die right there where I stood!” I grin up at him, his face partially shadowed by the glare of the late afternoon sun behind him.

But there’s no missing Julian’s eye sparkling with delight as he suppresses a whoop of laughter. “You thought you were going to die? I went up over the curtain like a fish on a hook!” He grins widely, thick eyebrow arched. “The audience couldn’t get enough. Poor sods didn’t even get the courtesy of knowing who was playing the titular murderer!”

“You know, it’s funny,” he continues, quieter and more serious than before, then pauses.

“What?” I answer. “What’s funny?”

He takes a step closer and drops down so that he’s eye level with me, long flanks resting on his heels. His fingers curl gently under my chin and his gaze drops to the ground.

“In that moment, I… I felt panic. For a split second, I was afraid I was going die. And I…”

I can’t control the subtle, incredulous tilt of my head as he speaks. Really?

But nothing escapes his attention, and he sputters out defensively, straightening up and dropping his hand to gesticulate rather theatrically. “I could have smashed into the curtain, hit a lantern, sent the whole place up in flames! And besides, who am I to deny the people of Vesuvia their justice…”

Oh, damn. What have I done? What was he going to say before my stupid face ruined it?

I stand up, too, and take his face in my hands, thumbs pressing his lips to shush him. “Julian, please don’t misunderstand me. I’m glad you don’t want to die. It may be the most sensible thing you’ve said in the short time I’ve known you, actually.”

He snorts in reply, but does not look away. “Well, any newfound sensibility is most definitely your fault.” Wrapping his long arms around my waist, he pulls me closer as he presses a kiss to my thumbs. I tilt my head up and pull his smiling lips to mine, just for a moment.

“Certainly makes things more complicated,” he says as he pulls away, eye turned downward again, his fingers lingering on my hips. “In any case, that wasn’t what I had in mind. Let me try this again.”

“Maire, I’d like to head over to the Raven for a bite to eat, if you’d be so forgiving as to join me? My treat, of course. And after that… a… nice walk down to the docks. How does that sound?”

A meal doesn’t sound bad… and the price is right. More importantly, I’m curious. If this means he’ll finally tell me what’s on his mind, I’m in.

“Sounds good to me,” I reply, taking one hand in mine as we set out at a comfortable pace.

“Just remember to avoid the seafood, which is decidedly not good.”

“Do I detect a story, there?” I ask, giggling.

He swings our hands playfully and smirks in response. “Yes, darling, but it’s not one for polite company.”

I use the momentum to steal back my hand under the guise of fixing the scarf in my hair. “Then it’s a good thing I’m hardly ‘polite company,” I say, reaching over to pinch his bottom, hard. He startles, a blush creeping into his cheeks and down his neck. He lunges for me, crushing me to his side. “Minx!” he growls into my hair, arm slung around my shoulder. “I just knew you were naughty, that night at your shop.”

I smile broadly, reliving the memory: Julian shucking his cape from his shoulders, his shirt hanging open to reveal the soft thatch of tawny hair, pale nipples erect in the cool night air; the way he trembled, his body giving itself over to my curious hands; how much he wanted my touch. The same thread of unmitigated desire, uncomfortably intense, begins to coil up in my stomach again.

“You’d been caught breaking and entering - again! I had to take certain liberties.”

He hums through gritted teeth. “Mmmmm, wish you’d taken a few more.” In one smooth motion, his hand slides down from my shoulder to my backside, where he takes much more than just a pinch.

I shriek in mock outrage, but can’t stop my giddy laughter nor the blooming feeling in my chest I’ve had all day. I look up at him and his eyes are joyful, his face relaxed and untroubled, for once. What is it about this man that he can speak to the very essence of who I am? How does he arouse such passion within me?

I whirl around to pin him against the alley wall, snaking my leg up over his hip, hands clutching the front of his jacket. His eye goes wide, at first, but the corner of his luscious mouth rises into a hungry grin.

“And who are you to grab me in public in such an insolent fashion?” I hiss, one hand moving up to grab a fistful of hair.

“I am insolent and quite incorrigible,” he purrs as he runs his hand along my thigh. “Do you think it right to… punish me?”

I lean in and just barely scrape my teeth along his neck, holding his head back as he croons, softly. “Oh, you’ll be punished… in due time.” I let my other hand fall, grazing the hardness between his legs, then cupping it more assertively. Julian gasps, head lolling against my fist. “But for now…” I suck the tender skin under his jaw into my mouth and release it. “… I believe you owe me dinner.”

Julian’s eye flutters closed, a fetching blush to the tips of his ears. He’s panting slightly, and the sound is altogether lewd and wonderful. He laughs weakly. “That’s right, Maire… I do, indeed - my treat.” He looks me square in the eyes, cupping my cheek. “You are truly a delight,” he says, beaming earnestly, then cocking a jaunty eyebrow. “Let’s go see what the Raven has in store for us tonight, shall we?”

“Something rowdy, perhaps?” I quip as we untangle ourselves and make our way to the tavern around the corner, Julian’s throaty laughter following us in.

“Hey, Barth!” he calls out to the burly bartender. “You’re looking well today!” The bartender merely nods his head in greeting, but there’s a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. Julian has this effect on everyone, it seems; drawing even the reluctant ones from their shells. “Say, Barth, what’s the special today?”

“Mussels,” he grunts. Speaking of shells, I think to myself.

Julian turns to face me with a grave expression, raises his eyebrows and shakes his head imperceptibly. I almost burst out laughing. “How about some of those lamb fritters with the roasted potatoes, then? A Salty Bitters for me and something sweet for the lady.”

Barth nods again and busies himself with preparing the drinks. “Shall we?” Julian asks, slinging his arm about my shoulders. The Raven is just starting to fill up, patrons chatting by the bar, various savory scents beginning to waft from the kitchen. Julian and I traipse over to the same table where we’d sat a few nights prior, the first time I really had the chance to get to know him. Instead of sitting across from me, though, he squeezes in next to me on the bench, his fingertips playing with the back of my short hair.

“I think we’re in for a treat tonight, Maire,” he begins. “Look over there.” He gestures to the door, where I see what appears to be a troupe of musicians entering, odd-shaped cases large and small in hand. “Do you enjoy music?” he asks, looking dreamily into my eyes.

I nod enthusiastically. “Oh yes! I love music. Singing, dancing. I think life would be so very boring without music in it.“

"Life is boring because there isn’t enough music in it,” he sighs. “Sometimes in my more… creative moments, I imagine a full band trailing me around, setting my life to music. A sweet, upbeat little melody for heading to the market - crashing cymbals and trumpets for those moments I’m running from the guards! I think my life would make for an interesting operetta.”

I snort; I can’t help it. He’s an insufferable romantic and I find it charming beyond belief. “So wait, wait… you want them to follow you and play music, like, all the time?” I arch my brow suggestively. “You don’t think that would get a bit… creepy?”

He clears his throat, a faint blush flowering in the candlelight. “Erm, well, maybe not for everything, Maire.” He leans in toward me, whispering conspiratorially. “Unless you like performing for an audience.”

I laugh out loud at that, and push his shoulder playfully. He shrugs off my hand, catching my wrist, and pulls me in for a kiss. I pull his lower lip between my teeth as he moans softly, running his tongue along the seam of my upper lip. Shuddering, he murmurs to me, “Mmmm, thirsty, are we?” I pull away and bite my lip, looking up into his storm-gray eyes, and nod.

“Well, your timing is impeccable, darling - food’s up!” He springs up from his seat with a wink and heads for the bar. I feel breathless, the blooming feeling in my chest unfurling even further and filling me with comfortable warmth. Careful there, I admonish myself. Keep your wits about you. But as Julian breezes back to the table, expertly balancing our plates and glasses in his large hands and setting them down with gusto, I’m reminded that it’s easier said than done.

“My lady,” he says, bowing at the waist and gesturing to the spread with a flourish. “Your dinner!”

I clap my hands approvingly, in an impression of a dainty maiden. “Oh, well done, sir,” my voice pitched higher than normal. I gesture to the spot next to me and bat my eyelashes. “Won’t you join me?”

He gazes up at me through his lashes, smiling broadly. “I should like nothing better.”

I lose track of time as we eat. It feels like it could be mere minutes or hours, and I’d have no way of knowing. Julian is a natural storyteller and holds me rapt, hanging onto his every word. I have a few stories of my own, and his questions and laughter are like sweet and spiced wine in a pitcher, filling me to the brim. It feels so good to forget about the world outside and the obligations that await us there. For now, I soak up every detail, trying to commit it all to memory: the brush of his hand on my thigh, the milky sharpness of his left canine, the unmanageable tousle of his hair, the shine lingering on his lips after he takes a long drink, the movement of his throat.

My trance is broken when I hear a few tentative, discordant notes in the opposite corner of the tavern and realize the musicians must be starting. Julian squeezes my knee, his eye large and mirthful. “What do you think they’ll play first, Maire? Julian at the Rowdy Raven? Or how about Julian Drinking Too Much As Per Usual? Hmmm.” His grin widens. “Maybe Julian with his Beautiful Shopkeep?”

I grin back, taking his hand. “Almost, Julian - listen…” The band has broken into a fast, thumping tune, tambourine clattering, a deep-sounding stringed instrument plucking away feverishly, a confident fiddle chirping in the mix. “This is definitely Julian Dancing with… ” I pause, my cheeks burning. “… with his Shopkeep.”

“Beautiful Shopkeep, you mean!” He jumps to his feet, pulling me up deftly against him. “And you’re absolutely right. Come dance with me?”

I spin away from him and extend my hand, just out of his reach. “Is that even a question?” He looks at me eagerly, his face wolfishly playful, and in two long strides joins me in the center of the room, where unbeknownst to me, the table and chairs had been cleared away.

The Raven has transformed into a rowdy scene, indeed. Hands are clapping, boots stomping, voices whooping and the players urging the crowd into a frenzy as they play seemingly faster and faster.

Julian’s hand is on my waist, on my hips, spinning me wildly out then grasping me close, his hips moving in time to the beat. I don’t know all the steps, so I watch Julian and with his body and various gestures, he guides me. With each movement, the energy grows; each eager press of his body against mine infuses me with heat. We jump and stomp together, calling out to the beat; we clap our hands, and twirl together, arm in arm. Time becomes strange and elusive again. It makes no sense as I describe it, but I seem to come outside myself, animated only by the primal, needful urges the constant drumming and the tantalizing brushes against Julian’s lean body rouse within me.

The sweat beading at my hairline is running down my back while Julian’s shirt is hanging open, already damp with perspiration. He looks young and so carefree, a wide smile plastered to his face. He turns to me again, his eye on mine, and time seems to slow just for a moment, just enough to make yet another memory of him for myself. I can’t remember ever enjoying myself with someone this much before.

As we come together once more, he runs one scandalous, gloved hand up under my shirt, then dangerously low on my back, waggling his eyebrows. “Ready, Maire?” he pants. As the music comes to a thunderous finale, he dips me backward. The whole world goes white for a moment and I close my eyes, letting my head fall back, my leg kicked out dramatically, feeling deliciously exposed and vulnerable in his strong, lithe arms. For the briefest of moments, I feel his tongue between my collarbones and a tender kiss over the same spot.

The crowd erupts into howls of cheers as I open my eyes. Julian peers up at me, his eyelid heavy and dark. His lips curve into a crooked smile and he lifts me up, twirling me in a quick spin and gestures to me to take a bow. I didn’t realize we’d been putting on a performance but judging by the audience’s applause, we’d given them something they liked.

Before the crowd has had too long to mill about, the musicians start up again, slower this time, into a tender ballad. People begin to couple up or depart the dance floor. I turn to Julian, still catching my breath, and ask, “Dance with me?”

Our hands still joined, he spins me the opposite way so that I’m coiling inward, and come to rest with my back against his chest, his arm trapping me close, mouth at my ear, the hard edge of his teeth bared against my earlobe. “Is that even a question?”

I smile, closing my eyes, feeling the weight of him wrapped about me, the musky leather scent of him bringing forth a deep yearning within. We sway like that for a moment before he gently turns me around to face him. “I wanted to see you,” he admits.

“I’m glad. I like to see you, too. That is…” I stumble awkwardly over the words. What is it that I’m trying to say? Julian just chuckles, a hand on my waist and the other coming to cup my chin. I open my mouth as if to speak, but the look in his eyes makes my mouth go dry.

“No matter what happens, I want you to know…” he trails off, a distant shadow passing across his countenance.

“What, Julian?” I press. “Want me to know what?”

His smile returns, but it’s tight, and he looks… sad. “Never you mind it, darling. Just squeeze me tight, will you? I dearly love this song.”

Trying not to think about the implications of his change of mood, I simply rest my head against his bare chest and tighten my grasp around his waist as if he’ll disappear into thin air if I should relax. He laughs a gravelly rumble in my ears as I drop my hands more than once to palm his firm bottom, and he sighs contentedly when I graze my nails down his back through his thin shirt. It really is a lovely tune they’re playing.

The song eventually comes to an end, like all good things do, and Julian fixes me with an adoring stare. “It’s getting late,” he murmurs, stroking my cheek. “What do you say to a moonlit walk on the docks?”

I nod in assent. “All right.” We lock fingers and head for the door. “But you know,” I continue, “I could have danced all night.”

He grins in response, but his face quickly falls.

“Me too, my dear. Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This my second-ever fic so I'm happy to have your feedback on whatever!
> 
> If you like what you see, please follow me on Tumblr @mairesmagicshop. Asks for fics are open!


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